Last Children of Hogwarts
by EtchedInDiamond
Summary: Everything has changed for Liam Hargrove. Hogwarts is gone, many of his friends and teachers lie dead on the field of battle. He and a small pocket of survivors must learn to live in a world that does not accept their kind, although the price of discovery is certain death. Constantly hounded by an immense and evil power, they learn that sometimes the worst enemy can be their own.
1. The Fall

_**I see it in my dreams sometimes.**_

_**In its entire glorious splendor.**_

_**I walk the courtyard, run my fingers through warm stone and water**_

_**The snow falls in winter, and I laugh**_

_**Those are good dreams**_

**/X\**

Liam Hargrove woke up in a screaming inferno of fire and death.

_This is Hell. I died and went to Hell._

Vague figures danced in the fires around him, screaming like demons. They were wreathed in flame; he couldn't see their faces. There were sounds all around him, compressing against him like some tangible things. His world was spinning out of control, wheeling, turning, gripping his mind. It needed to stop. It had to stop.

Someone was calling his name. He felt two rough hands on his shoulder. A face appeared before him, sooty and tear-streaked. Dark brown hair. Prominent nose. Eyes like twin ponds. His mouth was moving rapidly, calling his name. Liam frowned. Did he know this person?

He felt a sharp pain on his cheek, and suddenly, his mind cleared slightly.

"Liam!" he cried. "Get the hell up!"

Liam looked around. The demons had stopped dancing. At a closer inspection, Liam discovered that they were not demons, but the charred corpses of teachers and students. The library was a maelstrom of fire and crumbling architecture. He had to get out.

His savior pulled him towards the exit just as a piece of the ceiling groaned and fell inward, crash landing on the spot Liam had lain just seconds before. He stumbled forward, caught like a doll in the arms of the taller boy.

"Liam," the boy said worriedly once they were in the corridor. The fires had reached it, but not in such a concentration as the library. Portraits lay burning on the ground, their inhabitants having fled long ago. There was a boom, and everything shook. Liam held on to the other boy as he lost his footing.

"Liam, are you alright?" the boy asked.

Liam shook his head, dazed. What was going on?

His right hand twitched. He was holding onto something. He was holding on to it so hard that his fingers were white and he barely registered its presence. He opened his hand shakily.

It was a wand.

Reality collided into him with the force of a freight train. Broken memories came together like a jumbled jigsaw, and the identity of his savior was clear in his mind.

"Mick?" he said, his throat hoarse.

Mick nodded, swallowing hard. "It's me, chum. Thought I lost you there for a moment."

"The library…what happened?"

He remembered before his friend even opened his mouth. "Oh no," he whispered, eyes widening. "Professor Sprite and the others. Are they…?"

Mick choked back a sob. "Gone, mate. Bloody bastards got 'em."

They had organized a defense. The diminutive instructor had gathered the most willing of Seventh Years and constructed a barrier around the library's interior. Liam had snuck in, abandoning the evacuation party and joining Sprite and the others.

He remembered fighting hard, and then there was a massive explosion.

Then, the demons.

Liam let loose an anguished scream. He turned, determined to make the bastards pay for what they did. Mick cursed and reined him back in. "There's nothing we can do, Liam! We have to leave! We should've been gone hours ago!"

Tears spilled from Liam's eyes. Professor Sprite. Fred Poynter. Lois Ashdown. So many others. He snarled some incoherent gibberish, his rage clouding his thoughts. Mick grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around. He came so close their noses were touching.

"Get a fucking hold of yourself, Liam! They. Are. Gone. We have to leave."

Liam turned away, sobs wracking his body. He felt so damn ashamed. Mick hesitantly let go of his friend's shoulders, surprised at his own outburst. "I'm sorry, mate," he said quietly. "I'm so sorry. I really am. But we have to go. The evacuation parties might already be gone."

Liam crouched there, lost in his own pain and shame. He held up his head.

"Where?"

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

"Hurry, children! Time is running out!"

The huddle of kids swarmed through the narrow opening, the fear oozing off of them like a bad odor. Several sobs echoed around the dank hallway. Romulus Sorin wanted to comfort them. Hell, it hurt so bad it felt like if he _didn't _do anything, he might as well throw himself to those bastards outside.

But everything was in shambles. There was little he could do, Defense against the Dark Arts instructor or not. If his presence was a comfort, albeit a small one, he could do with that. He rubbed his neck like a dog. It was a nervous habit he never really got rid of. Sounds of the battle raged overhead, shaking the underground ceiling. Dust rained from above. Romulus hoped that the tunnels would hold.

The school hadn't used the tunnels for centuries. Made as an evacuation route during the principal construction, it had been forgotten over time. Not even the students or faculty of the First Battle had used them.

"Professor Sorin?" a small, bushy-haired Second Year asked, tugging on his robe sleeve.

"Yes, my dear?" he replied. He knew the girl. Charlotte Middleton. Fourth seat from the right. Quiet, unassuming, but with a knack for defensive charms.

"Where are the other professors?"

_Above us. Inside the castle. Bleeding and dying for the chance that we can live._

"They are occupied, dear. Please, hurry, we don't have much time."

There was another furious rumble. Several kids screamed.

Romulus had to restrain himself from picking them up and chucking them through the door. He ushered the last ones through the exit, his heart hammering. There was a noise behind him, scampering feet against cold stone. He whipped around, his wand at the ready, its tip glowing a sickly green.

A pale-faced boy stared at the end of it, sweat dripping down his forehead. Behind him, a tall girl with tangled blonde hair hid behind him, her blue eyes wide. Romulus dropped the wand, his heartbeat steadying.

"Julian," he breathed. Romulus tried to keep his hand from shaking. He had been a few syllables away from killing a student. "Julian, by God, you frightened me."

The boy's icy blue eyes narrowed. "Honestly, professor, for a werewolf your senses have dulled."

Romulus rolled his eyes. Just like a Slytherin, the boy. He pushed him towards the exit and clasped the shoulder of his sister. She was shivering uncontrollably. "Lucinda," he said. "Look at me."

She did. "We were looking for Liam," she whispered. "We saw Professor Crichlow."

"Half of him, at least."

"You're not helping, Julian!" Romulus exclaimed, his face darkening. "Follow the others!" He turned to Lucinda. "Where is Liam?"

She shook her head, tears issuing from those big blue eyes. By the moon, no wonder the boy was head over heels for her. Such an innocent soul, so pure…

Romulus growled and pushed those dark thoughts from his head. He had a general control over his wilder side, but sometimes it found a way to rear its ugly head in times of stress. He pushed Lucinda gently towards the exit. "Follow your brother, child," he ordered, not meeting her eyes. "I will find Liam."

She nodded, crossing her arms and hurrying to the door. Romulus sprinted down the corridor, hoping they would get to the docks in time. As he rounded the bend, he heard Lucinda cry out.

"We lost Mick near the boy's dormitory!"

"Stay with Nigel!" he called back.

_Damn all_. Liam _and _his jokester friend. Could his day get any worse?

Judging by the destruction that occurred just hours ago, he sincerely wished not.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

Liam ducked his head as an eave crashed to the floor beside him. He raced down the ruined halls, Mick at his left. The library was far behind them now, but the memory of the deaths of his friends was fresh in Liam's mind.

The fire had grown. By now it must've engulfed the whole school. The picture of his second home burning was like a knife twisting in his gut. He forced it out of his head. Liam felt Mick's hand slam against his chest.

"What?" he said, his wand out and eyes searching.

Mick pointed down. They were standing at the edge of a fiery chasm. If Mick hadn't stopped him, he would've fallen right off. Mick had gone two shades paler. "Watch your step," he said, but his voice was tight with fear.

The moving staircases were crumbling. The enchantments that had held them together for centuries were beginning to wear off. Liam saw a stone flight of steps swing towards them, disintegrating even as it finished its revolution. With a crack, the staircase exploded, sending stone shards everywhere. Stairs and portraits were falling, their denizens screaming and fleeing. Liam cursed.

"We have to go down that?" he croaked.

"Unless you want to jump straight down to the first floor, be my guest," Mick said. He stepped back, readying himself.

"Hold on, you can't be bloomin' serious-!"

Mick jumped. He felt weightless for a moment, like a bird in full flight. He had torn off the school robes a while ago; they did not hamper his leap. He was above the fires, above the cries, above the pain. He was leaving it all. Then, his feet met bare stone, and pain lanced up his legs. He cried out in pain.

"Mick!" Liam called from above.

"Don't worry about me, mate, just jump!"

Liam let loose a string of curses that Mick heard even a story down. He gave a shrill cry as he leapt. Mick saw him land on a staircase beside him, cursing again at the fall. "We should hurry," Mick gasped. "Mine's already disappearing!"

Liam looked down. His flight of stairs was crumbling quickly, and it would be seconds before it would send him plummeting down. Liam spied another one down below, turning towards his direction. He gripped the railing and vaulted over, landing squarely on the head of the stairs. There was an _oof_, and Mick was beside him, his red and gold shirt blackened with dust.

Mick pointed, his fright already wearing off. "That one. It's coming to us."

Liam frowned. "Not close enough. We should get that one over there-"

He looked into Mick's eyes. The gleam was there. Liam knew all too well what that gleam meant. "Don't you dare-!"

"Tally-ho!"

Mick jumped across the gap, his dark figure tiny against the backdrop of raging fires. Liam winced as his friend cleared the jump and landed on his can. "Aha!" Mick cried jubilantly. He turned to Liam and waved him over. "C'mon! It ain't that bad! For a Gryffindor, at least!"

"Yeah, but I ain't a Gryffindor!" Liam called back.

"You should've been, though! Damn Sorting Hat was confused at you, is all. Hell, who _ain't-_"

"We are not going through this again!"

"JUST JUMP!"

"JESUUUUUUUUUS!"

Liam knew he wouldn't make it. His toes scraped collapsing stone, and he fell. Mick cried out and flashed forward, gripping him by the collar and pulling him in. Liam fell against him, his heart hammering.

"You defy orders and help defend the library with zero chance of survival but you almost wet your pants at a damn jump?" Mick was shaking his head. "Sorting Hat must've gotten a damn migraine."

Liam socked him on the shoulder.

Mick laughed. "Not bad for a snake."

It almost felt normal. Like the old days, when they would hang out in the courtyard and make House jokes. When Lucinda would come up beside him, and he would wrap his arms around her. Mick and Julian would insult each other, of course, but Basil and Terrence would shut them up right, and Vena would talk about her latest projects-

No. Nothing was the same. His old life had been burnt by the fires.

And Terrence was dead.

Liam and Mick jumped.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

Romulus fought against the tide of fleeing students and staff. _This is going nowhere_, he thought with frustration. With every step he took, he was pushed back another two. _Hello, people! I'm trying to save lives here!_

The ancient edifice shook violently. It groaned and buckled, as if it was fighting off the enemy with everything it had. "Hold a little longer, girl," he murmured, closing his eyes. "It'll be over soon."

With a cry, he fell out of the screaming crowd. He was sweating profusely. So much heavy black robes in one space, in the middle of a conflagration for that matter, were damn dangerous. The DADA teacher got up, gasping for breath. In his recovery, he glanced out the window.

The moon was rising. Not quite full, but…almost. His eyes widened, his breath quickened. Romulus felt the primal urge clawing its way out in his chest, but he fought it down. It nearly took him everything, but fight it down he did. Romulus stood to his feet shakily.

He would accomplish his task, full moon or not. The professor inhaled, sniffing the air. The air was ripe with fear, magic, Old magic, _them_, and the revolting scent of fire and smoke. He crouched down, sniffing like a beast.

_There._ Coming his direction, and fast. The scent of Liam and Mick.

He raced towards them, determined to bring them to safety.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

"Liam! Mick!"

The pair stopped in their tracks at the sound of the familiar voice. Vena was by a pillar, cradling the head of a First Year in her lap. One of her glasses lenses was cracked and her purple-black hair was tangled and dirty. Her Ravenclaw uniform was nearly burnt off, but she looked okay. Not dead, thankfully.

"Vena!" Mick practically tore the ground as he raced towards her, Liam at his heels. They knelt by her. Mick's eyes widened as he saw the boy. "Oh my God, is that Charlie?"

The tiny boy was pale and limp in her arms. Vena was crying now, her black eyes filled with pain and remorse. "Shot through the heart," she cried. "Didn't give him a fighting chance."

Liam shook his head and ran his hand through the boy's hair. He was a good lad, a bit nosy, yes, but one of the brightest among Ravenclaw, and that was saying something.

Mick stroked Vena's shoulder. "Vena," he said softly. "We have to go."

She shook her head, rocking Charlie back and forth like a newborn babe. She mumbled something unintelligible and continued to weep for the boy. Liam exchanged glances with his friend. She was going to lose it.

"Vena Vandervent," Liam said, cupping her chin and forcing the girl to make eye contact. "Do you want to end up like Charlie?"

She shook her head, eyes wide.

"Then follow us."

The reaction was immediate. Vena got up to her feet, checking herself as if she was going out to Hogsmeade. She motioned to Charlie weakly. "We can't just leave him here."

"Then we'll take him with us."

They whirled at the voice. Professor Sorin was standing in the corridor, his dress shirt and slacks rumpled and sooty, but otherwise he retained that aging but strong bachelor look he carried about him. He was rubbing his neck furiously.

"Professor Sorin...?" Liam began, puzzled. He should've been gone.

"I met Julian and Lucinda. They wanted me to find you."

_Lucinda_. "Is she alright?" Liam demanded. If she was dead, he might as well just stand there and wait for the building to collapse on him.

"She's fine. Frightened, but fine. Come, we are wasting time."

They followed the DADA professor down the hallway. The walls were already beginning to fall. The fire had claimed the school, and there was nothing anyone could do to reclaim it. There were a few sounds of battle outside, but nowhere near as violent and deafening as before. The outcome was grave but obvious. Liam knew what that meant, he knew the repercussions, but he was too damn terrified to contemplate. He could hear the voices of their enemies closing in around them, stampeding into his precious school like army ants.

More explosions rocked the edifice, and more groans sounded. She was losing the battle. Professor Sorin suddenly stopped, and Mick nearly crashed into him. His ears were twitching, like a dog's, and he kept sniffing.

"Professor…?" Vena asked quietly. She kept on glancing out the window, at the moon. It was nearly visible, the dark clouds easing away from it like a stain being washed away.

"Go," he snarled, his voice suddenly very harsh. "Go now. To the tunnels. Round up any stragglers."

"Professor Sorin, we can't just-"

"GO!"

Liam dragged Vena and Mick by the sleeves and pushed them forward. "We can't do anything for him," he snapped as they protested. "They're here."

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

_/ 90 percent of life forms terminated. Directive 190C in final stages._

_Initiating target search._

_/Processing_

_/Processing_

_/Processing_

_**Target found.**_

_Communication established. Attempting negotiation protocol._

_**ALERT. Exterior skin damaged. Shields decreased to 47.78%. Recharging.**_

_Identification complete. Reinstating defense measures._

_/Processing…_

_Name: Romulus Xavier Sorin_

_DOB: March 15, 2039_

_Species classification: Homo lycanthropus_

_Use of magic: CONFIRMED_

_Threat level: 7_

_/Processing_

_Hyper lethal. Use of force required and authorized as per directive 10A of Wheatley Law. Kill authorization approved._

_/Charging forward cannon_

_**ALERT. Exterior skin damage extensive. Spell classification extremely harmful to interior hardwiring.**_

_**ALERT. Damage critical. Primary functions failing.**_

_/Firing forward cannons.  
_

_/Searching for target_

_FOUND._

_Status: Minor damage. Target elimination failed. _

_**ALERT. Damage fatal. System overload. System failure.**_

_Beacon activated__**.**_

_**SHUTDOWN IMMINENT.**_

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

Liam was about to round the bend when the sound of voices reached his ears. He froze at the corner, stopping Vena and Mick, who was bearing Charlie's body. Liam peeked around the wall, trying to keep his breathing under control. The rising fire and the long run didn't help. There were two figures of the same height in the hall, rummaging through several black-robed corpses. Liam's stomach did a somersault.

"Hey, what the hell is this thing?" one of them remarked snidely. The figure kicked a small corpse in the side.

The other crouched down, inspecting the body. "Oh, yeah, that's a goblin. Ugly little bastard."

"Goblin? Christ, man, I ain't use to this folk tale shit." He leaned down. "Man, that _is _ugly." The man lifted his gun and put a few more rounds into the body.

Liam could feel Mick trembling beside him. Curses were flying out of his mouth, quietly but with no less vehemence. The Gryffindor in Mick was telling him to confront these bastards, but they couldn't afford it. They were bigger, armed, and lethal killers. They would be dead in seconds. Liam gripped his friend's wrist. _Calm down_, said the gesture. _They'll get it later_. The trembling subsided.

There was a beeping sound. The snide one looked at his wrist. "Great, one of our Searchers got blasted."

"This late? Resistance should be over by now."

"Well, looks like it ain't."

"Check the specs."

"Let's see. Uh, Romulus Sorin. Ring any bells?"

"Huh. Yeah, I think I remember that one from the briefing. One of them posh magic professors. Werewolf."

"Shit. We gotta check this out."

The soldiers left the corpses and came towards the students' direction. They were nearly around the corner. Vena whimpered. Mick clamped a hand over her mouth. The two men froze.

"You hear that, Danny?" the second one said, his voice quiet.

The snide one shifted around, weapon up. "I hear nothing."

Mick flashed ahead, wand already up. "_Stupefy!_" he roared, aiming for the one who shot the corpse. The red beam hit the soldier square in the chest, denting his silver armor and sending him flying back. The other one reacted almost immediately, firing his gun at the exposed Gryffindor. Liam sent a _protego_ charm in front of Mick, shielding him from the light bullets. Mick snarled and fired a spell at the lone soldier.

The man rolled to the side, dodging it easily and firing once again at Mick. Liam cursed and dove into the hall, firing stun spell after stun spell to get the bastard away from his best friend. One finally hit; knocking him on the head and felling him like a tree. Once it was over, Liam grabbed Mick.

"What the hell was that for?" he hissed. "You could've gotten us killed!"

"Yeah, but it wasn't for me, we would've died!" Mick countered, pushing Liam back. His eyes slid over to the gun in the prone soldier's arms. He eyed it as if it was a sleeping snake. "Those weren't bullets," he said gravely.

"Yes, they were," replied Liam. "My da's Muggle friend worked for a company that made the things. Some kind of superheated projectiles that are a little resistant to magic."

"Nasty buggers," Mick growled. "Your da didn't catch on when he heard that last part?"

"He didn't hear it at all. Some got through my Protego charm. They missed you, but it freaked the hell out of me."

There was an unearthly howl. Sounds of gunfire and shouts could be heard from behind them. Liam heard rapid footsteps approaching them. "C'mon," he snapped. "We have to go. We got lucky with those two. Mick, get Vena."

Mick immediately complied, helping the girl to her feet and hefting Charlie's body over his back. Liam shook his head. "Leave the corpse. It's only a dead weight."

His friends froze. Vena's mask of horror was as if Liam had sprouted a dragon head. Mick frowned. "Hold on, mate, we can't just leave him here-"

"Charlie is dead, Mick," Liam cut in, trying to keep the venom from his voice and failing. "Charlie is gone. The body will only slow us down. Drop it."

Mick's face darkened. "Look at that, your Slytherin is coming out-"

"MICK! PLEASE!"

Liam was shocked at his own outburst. Mick's eyes widened and Vena choked back a sob. Mick numbly set Charlie's corpse to the ground and walked forward, brushing shoulders with Liam. Vena stood there, arms crossed weakly. "Vena," Liam started, his voice softening. "I'm sorry."

She nodded and followed Mick.

Liam took one last look at the small mass of flesh that had once been an innocent First Year and ran away.

Another howl sounded. Liam looked up, through the cracked windows in the hall. The moon was full and up, unveiled from the gathering clouds.

Romulus Sorin had fully turned.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

It took five excruciating minutes for them to find the path to the escape route. The entrance was at the base of the Astronomy Tower, where two wide-eyed Prefects had almost incinerated them on the spot. After a gut-wrenching moment of appeasement, they followed the Seventh Years down a spiraling staircase that seemed to go down for ages. Liam, who had taken pride in knowing almost all the secret passageways in the castle, was stunned at the underground tunnel system.

Then again, not even the famous Albus Dumbledore professed of knowing all of the school's secrets.

The dank corridors smelled of algae, wet stone, and sweat. Liam could only imagine the sight of dozens of students packed like sardines into the tunnels, squirming along towards the exit. Liam stopped, spying a peculiar object near the base of one of the walls.

It was a stitched-up doll, obviously a sentimental keepsake.

"C'mon, mate, we don't have time!" Mick called from up ahead, his voice bouncing off the walls.

Liam tucked the doll into his shirt pocket. He would find the owner of the toy, he was sure of it. The Slytherin followed the others, his legs and arms pumping furiously to catch up. Every time the nape of his neck tingled, he imagined silver-armored men stampeding into the tunnels, abominable guns firing at him and his friends.

He finally reached them, gasping for breath. Mick's shirt was dark with his sweat, and Vena look close to vomiting. The Prefects, older boys Mick knew from the Quidditch teams, directed them towards the shore of a vast subterranean lake, where the last of weary faculty were herding students into boats.

"Lake leads to some caves in the Forbidden Forest," Jacob, one of the Prefects, a Hufflepuff beater, gasped. "The first boats are only halfway across, though, so it'll take some time. Good luck, mates."

They turned to leave. Mick grasped the shoulder of the other boy, one he knew from the Gryffindor team. His eyes were filled with worry. "Wait on a minute, Roger, where are you two going?"

"Buy some time," Roger replied, grim-faced. "I want to give those bastards a piece of our mind, and Jacob here wants to test out his new club on those shiny tin cans out there."

The Hufflepuff grinned and produced a Quidditch beater club from his back. "I imagine their heads are silver bludgers, makes it easier. More fun, too."

"C'mon, mate," Mick pleaded with Roger. "You can't go to your death like that! Just come with us on the boats, we'll have enough time."

Roger shook his head. "Sorry, Mick. You need time, and those guys out there need help. Most of the professors are either dead or down here, so there ain't much stopping those shiny-shits up above from coming down and slaughtering you all. Don't worry; we'll veil that trap door so well not even their fancy Muggle toys can find it out."

"Roger, please-"

"Toodle-oo, keeper," Roger winked.

The two boys ran back down the tunnel.

Liam never saw them again.

A figure came running toward them from the gravelly shore. It was Nigel, the old groundskeeper. His white hair was even whiter than usual, and his tan face, normally bright and cheery, was saggy with fatigue and grief. He was short, shorter than even some Second Years, but his grandfatherly appearance kept many of the students in line. Now, all Liam saw was a tired old man.

"Mick, Liam, Vena," he greeted. Nigel's voice was weak with exhaustion. "Glad you're here. Lucinda was worried sick about you all."

Liam slumped in relief. Lucinda was safe. "Was Julian with her? Basil?"

"Both of them," Nigel answered. "Julian's his usual posh self, but Basil's ruined. What happened to him up there?"

Mick swallowed and looked at Liam.

"Terrence was killed at the stadium," Liam told him, his throat nearly choking up. "Basil saw it happen."

Nigel's face fell. "Poor boy. He blames himself, no doubt." The man collected himself. "Now, we can't dwell on such things. Night's already horrible as it is. C'mon, get yourself on the boat. You're the last of them to come down here. O'course, we conjured up some more for any stragglers, but…"

He didn't finish the sentence.

Liam and the others clambered onto the small wooden craft. There were several other Fifth Years, some he recognized. There were no Slytherins, but he spied one familiar face. "Heinrich?" he said, his eyes widening. "Is that you?"

The blonde-haired boy smiled sadly and nodded. He was of German descent, but his parents moved from Dresden to London when he was a babe. His head was wrapped in a white linen cloth, where only his startlingly blue eyes twinkled from under the wrap.

"I thought you-"

"Died at the bridge?" Heinrich interjected, his West London accent rich and smooth. "I thought I did too. Turns out only a wooden rail caught me on the head. Nigel pulled me out of the wreckage before they could get me, but that was after you guys left."

Mick shook his head. "I'm sorry, mate, we thought you were done for."

Heinrich shrugged. "I do not blame you. I probably would've done the same thing." He seemed to notice Vena for the first time. "Hello, Vena. I'm glad you're okay."

She blushed and looked down at her toes. Mick rolled his eyes.

_The end of the magical world as we know it, and Vena still manages to act like a First Year in front of her crush. _

The boat suddenly pushed off from the beach, its oars enchanted to row endlessly until the other side of the lake was reached. Nigel sighed, stroking the head of a silently weeping girl from Ravenclaw. Vena joined them, comforting the girl. Mick watched them, his face a field of warring emotions.

Liam discovered that Heinrich had been staring at him. "What?" Liam demanded.

"You are not like other Slytherins, Hargrove."

Liam snorted. "So I've been told. The thousandth time."

Heinrich smiled and leaned back. Even with a bloody cloth over his head he managed to carry himself around like an aristocrat. Not like Julian, who regarded everyone around him as socially inferior, but as someone whose ease with himself only came from that particular bracket.

Nigel shifted, looking around at the other boats slowly paddling around them. "I don't see Romulus," he muttered. "Isn't he with us?"

Liam bit his lower lip. "He went back up," he said, hating his own words. "He saved us."

Nigel processed the words. The elderly man closed his eyes, tears running down his weathered face. "Such a good man," he said. "Damn shame."

Liam thought of the hundreds of students and professors that had stood their ground and fought to the bitter end. Professor Sprite. Terrence Fletcher. Roger Caldwell. Jacob Cable. Romulus Sorin. So many others.

_Damn shame_.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

"Liam, wake up. We've made it."

Liam opened his eyes.

Students were climbing out of their boats and onto a shore identical to the first, although this one led to an eerie cave that spanned all the way to the ceiling. Kids were gathered in huddles, resting against stalagmites, etc. Everyone seemed utterly lost.

Mick helped Liam off the boat. "You missed the giant squid," he told him, a flicker of a smile appearing on his face. "It watched us as we crossed the lake. I think it was protecting us."

Liam would've paid to see that. He nodded, a tiny grin creeping up his face. "It probably was. It's got a legacy of doing that."

They joined others on the shore, immediately setting out on the task to find as many of their friends as possible. Kit Green was there, with some of his Herbology buddies. They greeted Liam and Mick, their hands covered in algae. _No doubt inspecting the local flora_, Liam figured.

Xavier Booth and several other Ravenclaws smothered Vena once they caught sight of her, fussing over her like mother birds. Liam and Mick smiled at the sight and respectfully left them. They knew Vena would enjoy seeing her Potions friends after such an ordeal.

Danforth Steele, the infamous Slytherin beater that sometimes acted as Liam's bodyguard. Keith McCoy, the Hufflepuff Quidditch captain. Susan Dowding, a hysteric mess after her twin was lost in the fire. Simon Brennan, the popular Gryffindor that had risked his life nabbing the House Cup before the enemy could get their hands on it.

Even some of the well-known teachers made it through. Old Hagglesworth, the irate Charms professor that had a soft spot for caramel truffles. Professor Holmes, every bit as clueless as his famous literary counterpart was a genius. A bit surprising, considering he was the Arithmancy teacher. Even old Firenze, although it was a wonder how he fit on a boat. Professor Constance, History of Magic. Professor Crane, Transfiguration. They were there also.

There was a flash of platinum hair. Liam struggled through the throng of students, losing Mick in the chaos. "Lucinda!" he cried, grabbing the person by the shoulder.

Julian turned and regarded Liam disdainfully. "Hardly," he sniffed. "So. You're alive."

Liam sighed. It was Julian, alright. "So it seems, Jules."

"Don't call me that."

"Where's Lucinda?" Liam pressed, ignoring him. "I need her."

Julian rolled his eyes. "Well, you've made that notion incredibly clear these few years, haven't you? What with all your ravenous snogging-"

"_Julian._"

"She went out looking for you, last time I saw her."

"Thank you," Liam said, clasping him on the shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah, just don't let your simpleton of a friend find me."

"I heard that, you posh snake."

Liam let Mick and Julian bash heads as he went looking for Lucinda. _If she was looking for me, she should be by the shore. We were the last to leave._ He went back to the shore, where he saw Lucinda speaking with a familiar person.

"Basil!" he exclaimed.

The large boy, 6'6 of pure muscle, looked up, his eyes red from weeping. Lucinda raced over to Liam, embracing him tightly. "I was so worried about you," she whispered.

"I know," he replied, nuzzling his face in her hair. She smelled great, despite hours of running and packed spaces. "I was worried about you, too."

He extricated himself from her hug and embraced Basil, who seemed too numb to respond in kind. "How are you, big fella?" he inquired, worried. "Feeling better?"

The Hufflepuff nodded slowly, his dark eyes downcast. Nigel was right. He did blame himself for Terrence's death. Liam clasped the big boy's shoulder firmly. "It wasn't your fault, Basil."

Basil shook his head and walked away, completely silent.

"I've been trying to tell him that, but he insists on staying quiet," said Lucinda. "He was right next to him, you know, when it happened. It was like Terrence was there one second, and then gone the next."

"I know, Lucy," replied Liam, frowning. "We were all there."

He looked into his girlfriend's eyes. If he could simply will those tears to go away, he would in a flash. But he just hugged her. It was all he could do.

"It's gone, Liam," she sobbed. "We can't go back."

There was a sudden rumble. People screamed, losing their balance on the rocky surface of the underground beach. Liam held onto Lucinda, hugging her tight. Dust rained down from above, and the lake was vibrating wildly.

And, as soon as it began, it stopped.

"What was that?" a voice cried out. The fright in it was painfully evident.

Liam knew. He wished with all his heart that he was wrong, but he knew what it was.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had finally fallen.

_**Then I awake, and I know the truth**_

_**Everything has changed**_

_**Sometimes I weep**_

_**Sometimes I am too numb**_

_**But I cannot escape the fact**_

_**That my home is forever gone**_

**A/N: I, once again, have fallen to the lure of New Story making. But, for followers of my other stories, I plan to complete them eventually; it's just that, er…I'm doing another one. Anyways, confusion is expected, much will be revealed later on. Currently looking for an appropriate cover art for this story, so if any one of you artists want to take a crack at it, be my guest. Just PM me if you have any questions (or cover art).**

**FOREVER REMAIN ETCHED IN DIAMOND**


	2. Holy Ground

**AN: Chapter 2 is here! Strangely enough, this is the only story that I have the inspiration to continue (as of now). My additional stories, beta reading, and other stuff have been put on hold due to a recent family tragedy. I hope you guys enjoy!**

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

**0448 hours**

**October 27, 2089**

Hogwarts fell in a heap of fire and stone.

The sound of centuries of magical education and safe haven crashing down was near deafening. The fire roared all the while, consuming its prey even as she moaned and crumbled to the ground. This was no natural conflagration. The tinkering of men in lab coats had changed the very atoms of the fire into an altered state, capable of burning near anything. The area was covered in dense black smoke plumes, momentarily lit by a reaching flame.

The cheer of Hogwarts' destroyers rang out even louder than her destruction.

Task Force Pugnus, 106th Regiment of the Howling Eagles, 9th Division, the greatest military force Great Britain had ever seen, was victorious.

The tell-tale flash of silver in the dawning sun told the world Pugnus was trampling over the field of battle, searching for any survivors. Several wounded magicians were put down the moment they were found struggling out of the ruin. The silver-armored army moved like a well oiled machine, covering the extent of the isle in less than twenty minutes. Giant Searchers were at the forefront, detecting any life signals from the wreckage. Any such resistance was eliminated.

From the other side of the Black Lake, standing at the calm shores with a cup of tea in her hand, Major General Jezebel Hyde smiled.

It had been a long campaign. Somewhat tiring, too. She had been the one up every night, working out the best strategy of attack against the heathens while Task Force Pugnus rested in order to be at top shape for the scheduled assaults. The magicians had their tricks. She knew all too well about that. Jezebel carefully stroked the tip of the scar that extended from her collarbone down to her left hip. A badly powered diffindo, but it still nearly killed her that night.

They decided direct assaults were the best choice of action. Repeated, merciless, assaults that gave no time for the defenders to rest or regroup. Searchers were being sent in overtime, damaging the structure of the building and terminating any in their way. The tactic was effective; Hogwarts had never seen anything like the Terminus Searcher Mark IV. Of course, Durmstrang had repelled that strategy unnervingly easily, but they were a very militaristic, barbaric "school". Hogwarts had no such mettle.

Admittedly, they had put up a better fight than Jezebel predicted. The broomstick bombings were a grim surprise, but nothing AA batteries couldn't handle. A particularly nasty exploding hex had landed not too far from the Command Tent, which startled many of the senior officers inside.

The end was inevitable, however. Hogwarts fell, just as planned. The major occult schools of Europe were now gone, the Wipers already starting to erase them from memory.

Jezebel frowned. If only they could weasel out those sneaky Ministry rats…

"Major General."

"Yes, officer cadet?" she answered, sipping her tea. Her eyes never left the destroyed ruins of the castle.

"Council wants a word with you, Major General," the stiff-backed young man relayed. "They want a situation report."

Jezebel nodded, placing the cup back on her plate. She turned to the nineteen-year-old and smiled. "Of course. You've been such a help, Matthew. Thank you."

He flushed. _Such a handsome thing. I might want to invite him over for a confidential debriefing later on._ She patted him on the shoulder. "Come along, Matthew. I insist you stay by my side from now on."

_Look how he grins proudly at himself. Oh, he'll be so fun to break._

Soldiers parted ways as Jezebel traversed the large camp, saluting stiffly and not meeting eye contact. Doing that would be a horrible mistake. She reached the Command Tent, Matthew hot on her heels. The tent was a flashy affair, terribly inconvenient in a battle situation. All colorful insignias and Royal emblems. It was like a humongous target smack dab in the middle of the camp.

She entered through the flap, and immediately her subordinates stood. Jezebel found it odd how these old, white-haired men gave off such fear in her presence, but she figured out long ago that she could always use that to her advantage. Court-martials and public executions for failure to accomplish duties did wonders on an army's obedience levels. She waved them down.

"Gentlemen, we will soon be in the presence of the Council," she reminded them, making sure to stare at each of them in the face. "You know protocol. I _expect_ you follow them."

There was a series of grunts. They knew what to do.

The large screen flashed, and immediately the Council of Avalon appeared in the Command Tent. Jezebel stood rimrod straight, snapping a quick salute at the figure in the highest seat.

The Voice of the Minister, a bespectacled crone too small for the ceremonial robes that accompanied such a job, returned the gesture dismissively. Jezebel tried to resist a snarl. Such restrictions on the military yet the Council refused to acknowledge them. The Voice sniffed imperiously and adjusted her lenses.

"The Minister stands Supreme," she began, her voice a wizened croak.

"Until the End of Days and the Dying of the Sun," everyone finished. The mantra was necessary for every official meeting. Failure to do so meant an immediate death sentence, without trial.

"Major General Jezebel Dolores Hyde, Task Force Pugnus, 106th Regiment, 9th Division of His Glorious Army. On this day, word was sent from your head of operations that the demolition of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the last great European instruction center of the occult arts, was achieved. Is this news true?"

"Yes, His Voice. Hogwarts is no more." Jezebel kept her gaze on the woman's wrinkled forehead. Staring her in the eyes meant imprisonment in Sheol Prison. For life.

The Council room erupted in quiet murmurs. The Voice lifted her hand, and the spacious hall grew silent. "This is excellent news, Major General. The Minister will be most pleased."

"It would be my everlasting honor to please His Grace," Jezebel replied, bowing.

The Voice sniffed. "I'm sure. Has every resident of the school been terminated, as stated under Wheatley Law?"

"To my knowledge, yes, Your Richness," Jezebel said confidently. They had the school completely surrounded. No one could've escaped.

Matthew came in the tent, his head bowed and pace hurried. He knelt in front of Jezebel, who was shocked at the intrusion. The Voice was fidgeting around like a headless fowl.

"What is the meaning of this, Major General?" she demanded. "Protocol _must_ be followed, in His name!"

"Of course, His Voice," she said, bowing. "What is it, boy?" she hissed in the cadet's ear.

He fished into his breast pocket and handed her a note. It was signed by the Brigadier, Donald Fischer. She read through it, her eyes getting wider and wider. The note crumpled in her fist.

Matthew bowed to her, the televised Council, the confused war officers, and nearly sprinted out of the room, silent all the time.

"Explain yourself, Major General!" the Voice hissed.

"His Voice," she began, despair settling over her. "It appears there has been a slight…" There was no use in lying to the Council. They had eyes and ears in every corner of the world. "Misjudgment of current statuses."

"Yes, Major General? Go on." The Voice was deadly quiet.

Jezebel felt something like fear creep into her gut. She despised that feeling more than anything in the world. "Searchers have found a trap door, guarded by two of the graduating class, at the base of one of the towers. Further investigations may hint of the tunnel passageways being a…escape route."

The Voice processed the news. Jezebel could see her frail form quivering in rage.

"_Escape?_" she snarled. "No one escapes the Hand of the Minister! _No one_! Follow the route and hunt down the heathens!"

"His Voice," Jezebel continued, hating every word that came out from her mouth. "We are delayed in that particular process. There is a subterranean body of water that the escapees seemed to have crossed. We have difficulties pursuing them because of a…"

"Because of a _what_, Hyde?" The Voice screamed, spittle flying from her mouth. She had used her last name. No one used her last name. Jezebel would've reached out and throttled the life out of her if not for the space between them.

"Because of a giant squid, Your Richness."

The Voice was livid. "A giant squid."

"That is what the report says. I do not know Brigadier Fischer to be a liar, Your Grace."

The Council was silent. The Voice gathered herself, the shaking of her body having stopped. "Look at me, Major General. I permit this honor only once."

Jezebel stared into her milky, cataract-filled eyes.

"Find those heathen escapees, Major General. Find them and kill them. If this does not happen in two month's time, say farewell to your rank and stars. And to your life, as well. The Minister does not tolerate failure. It is beyond his capability to even look upon it."

The screen blinked and faded to black.

There was a moment of awkward silence. Never before had the senior officers seen Jezebel so utterly humiliated. Her shoulders quivered, tensed, and then went still. She turned to face the men. "You heard His Voice," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Find those heathen bastards that dare escape the Minister's judgment! Now!"

The men bowed hastily and exited the tent.

"Calvert! Bring me Fischer! I must have a word with him."

Calvert nodded and bowed. He immediately felt very sorry for Fischer.

Jezebel waited for all of them to leave. When they were gone, her face contorted in absolute wrath and she threw a chair across the room, a scream never leaving her lips. She recovered quickly, tying her long black hair back and waiting for the flush to leave her cheeks.

"Matthew!" she called.

The young man strode back in, head down. Jezebel put on her best smile and tilted his head up, fingers on his cleft chin. He blushed madly.

Jezebel was a stunning beauty. Pale but soft features, midnight black hair, lovely brown eyes the color of hot cocoa. Many of his older cadet mates told stories of her luring young officers into her tent and seducing them.

"Matthew," she said gently. "Such a good boy. Would you mind accompanying me to my quarters? I will need much help tonight."

Matthew nodded dumbly and followed her out, much to the envy of many a young male soldier.

Some of the older ones shook their heads sadly. They knew what happened to men that Jezebel lured into her tent. The sight was too horrifying to forget.

Jezebel was furious. She needed an outlet. She could not afford to explode in front of the men. No, Jezebel Hyde needed something better. And what better form was there than a strapping young man too naïve to think?

With an alluring smile, she led him to her dark tent.

That night, the older soldiers were grateful her tent was soundproof. They did not want to hear Matthew's screams. The first time was bad enough.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

**Somewhere in the Forbidden Forest**

"Up you go, darling," Liam said to the small First Year, hefting her over to Mick, who waited over the ledge.

The exit out of the cave stood at about where Liam's chest was. The refugees decided to make an assembly line, carrying the children too small to make it over and waiting for the more capable ones to cross over. The work was tiring, he had to admit, but seeing the look of the children's faces as they breathed fresh air was well worth it. He carried the last one over the ledge and followed them up, Mick giving a helpful hand.

The Forbidden Forest seemed less menacing in the early morning light, but the sight of the foreboding trees all around them elicited a hardwired jolt in Liam. It was common knowledge that the Forbidden Forest welcomed no visitors. Mick joined him at the clearing edge, taking a deep breath.

"Gives me the creeps," he whispered. Mick had no amount of pleasant experiences when it came to the haunted wood. He looked around. "I've never been here before."

Mick and his Gryffindor mates took much pride in the fact that they were the only ones in the whole school to dare explore the forest at night. Liam had always advised against it, of course, but the Gryffindor spirit was stubborn as it was brave. _Foolish, as well._ The fact that this neck of the woods seemed unfamiliar to Mick was a bit unnerving.

Then again, the Forbidden Forest was a big place.

"You haven't been this far?" Liam said. His breath was a light mist in the air.

Mick shrugged. "I don't even know how far out we are. To tell you the truth, my mates and I didn't even go that deep." To Liam's surprise, a soft blush had spread across his cheeks. "We just skirted around the forest edge most of the time, only going deeper when the acromantulas went back to their holes."

Liam gasped at him mockingly. "The great Mick Buckley, the famous Gryffindor explorer, too afraid to risk a bunch of little spiders?"

Mick kicked him in the shin. The blush had spread, much to Liam's delight. "Acromantulas aren't _little_," he seethed. "The biggest one I saw dwarfed my Great Dane back at home. Nearly bit off me feet."

"Did that happen to be the day you scampered off to our dormitory without a single word? White as a sheet you were."

"Sod off."

Liam allowed himself a hearty laugh. He sure as hell needed one. He turned at the sound of a commotion behind him.

The students were crowding around Nigel, who had hoisted himself atop a large boulder, with the help of a grim-faced Firenze. The centaur and the other kids waited patiently for Nigel to catch his breath.

"We lost a lot of people," he breathed. "A lot of good people. I'm going to be honest here. We won't be able to get through this if we hold back. We need to stay strong, and more importantly, together."

Liam nodded. It was best to give them the facts straight up. It wouldn't do any good to not let them know.

"First order of business," Nigel said, already taking command. "Organization. Group yourselves by order of House. When that's done, we'll assign leaders to oversee each group and reconnaissance teams. We can't go far without a little scouting."

"Natural leader, he is," Mick grunted, approving. "Never knew the old man had it in him."

"He was in the RAF, you know," Liam remarked. "Sprite told me a few years ago. Being a Squib hit him hard when he was younger, so he enlisted. He shot down five Nazi planes over Berlin."

Mick raised his eyebrows. "Wow. He's old."

"Not as old as some wizards. Dumbledore lived about five hundred years."

"Yeah, but he was a special one. Anyways, let's sort ourselves up. Go join your little rhumba; I'll be with the cool ones."

Liam rolled his eyes and walked over to the pocket of Slytherins that had gathered near the forest edge. They nodded to Liam as he approached them.

"I nominate Liam Hargrove as leader!" Julian announced, reclining on a rock. "Just one will do."

"Liam?" a gangly boy who wore a permanent sneer scoffed. "Fat chance. I recommend my boy, Augustus Fudge!"

Augustus was the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team. His devilish cunning and tactics earned him a nickname, "the Serpent", amongst the Hogwarts community. A true Slytherin, he had helped with the defense plans but never even participated in the actual fighting.

Needless to say, Mick hated him with a passion.

Liam regarded Augustus with a cold, calculating glance. The boy was taller, for sure, but slightly skinny. He relied more on his astuteness than raw strength. Short black hair, eyes as grey as a storm, but a sharp gleam in them that revealed his intelligence. Augustus shrugged casually.

"I don't care," he said. His voice was scratchy, like he had a throat rash. "Liam can take the position."

Julian narrowed his eyes at him. He never liked Augustus. Much too quiet and crafty. Julian liked grandeur plots that would be revealed to his victim at the last moment. The captain was too subtle for his tastes.

"Well then, we can have two captains," Lucinda offered. She was sitting quietly on a boulder, next to her brother. "Nigel never specified a number."

Augustus' gaze slid over to the girl. It was no secret which Slytherin Augustus Fudge fancied. Liam's fist trembled for a moment, but it passed. Now was definitely not the time for internal rivalry.

Augustus shrugged again. His posture was expertly carried in a state of indifference. Liam had no idea what he was really thinking. "I'm fine with that." Grey eyes met brown. "What do you say, Liam?"

Liam shrugged, taking on a friendly smile. "That's perfectly okay with me."

_Two can play this game, bastard._

Lucinda cleared her throat. The two boys looked like they were about to ram heads. "So…reconnaissance teams?"

"I nominate Sidney Barlow!" Julian crowed, gesturing over to the gangly boy.

"Screw you, Westrope!"

"Sidney Barlow it is," Augustus said, glaring at Sidney. The boy cringed. "I too nominate a person. Julian Westrope."

Julian's gaze simmered with hate as he focused on Augustus. Lucinda touched his knee gently. The look of murder died away, and he shrugged. "Fine. Let's be done with nominations. Any volunteers?"

Three more raised their hands. Liam nodded, hands in his pockets. "Five it is."

Nigel was atop the boulder again. "Are all Houses organized?" There was a chorus of ayes. "Reconnaissance?" More ayes. Nigel nodded approvingly. "Good. Remember, stick together. I want all reconnaissance teams to gather around me."

Julian got up from his perch, dusting himself off. He nodded to Liam and glared once more at Augustus. Sidney and the others followed him as the teams centered on Nigel's rock. Augustus turned to Liam once they were out of earshot.

"I suggest you keep Westrope on a short leash, Hargrove," he said. "He is horribly volatile."

Liam returned his stare. "I'll deal with Julian, _Fudge_. I'll deal with him in my own way."

Augustus smiled a cold bitter smile, devoid of any joy. "Of course, Liam. Of course."

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

Mick Buckley cursed as he, rather ungracefully, tripped over a log. Heinrich chuckled, leaning against a sagging oak tree. "How quaint. The famous Keeper of Gryffindor bumbling about a forest like a limp fawn."

Mick blushed. "Don't have a broom. It'd be different if I had a bloomin' broom."

Heinrich smiled. He had his bandages off; the Gryffindor had been one of the first patients Madame Joy had treated. Now, his handsome face was unblemished, a fact that Vena had no trouble spouting on about. Mick grumbled unintelligibly under his breath.

"I was only joking, Mick," Heinrich replied, clasping his shoulder.

"Hey-o! No time to dilly dally, chums! We've got a forest to explore!"

Mick rolled his eyes as Simon Brennan lumbered through some bushes.

He was arguably the most popular Gryffindor. Captain of the Quidditch Team, the most notorious prankster (and the nightmare of professors around the world), the buddy of Peeves the Poltergeist, and, most recently, the savior of the Hogwarts House Cup.

Simon flipped his dirty blonde locks back, like a celebrity. "C'mon, Mick, Heinrich. There's adventure in the air, and I can smell it. That, and animal manure." He breathed in the air, an expression of rapture on his face. "Ah. Lovely."

Heinrich and Mick exchanged glances. Well, one _had _to be a little strange if you possessed that much raw courage. Or foolishness. Heinrich joined Simon as he delved into the underbrush, singing a Scottish folk song that probably stirred every beast from their slumber. Mick sighed and joined them.

"You know, Mickey," Simon brayed. Mickey was his nickname in the team. "I never knew why you hung out with all those people from different Houses. I've got a motto, you know. Stick with your House and-"

"You never go wrong," Mick finished.

"Exactly! By God, why do you think we won all those bloody House Cups over the years? I'll tell you why, because Gryffindors-"

"Are like goblins, we never give up," Heinrich sighed. It was a terrible joke, but it made some sense, at least.

Simon guffawed, sending some birds in flight. "Oh, that one hurt me stomach. Yes, my Aryan friend, we _never give up_. And, more importantly, we stick together. That's why I got so bloody annoyed whenever you traipsed around with that Slytherin boy. Er, what's-his-name. Harry? Louis?"

"_Liam_," Mick sighed, kicking some twigs around. "His name is Liam, Simon."

"Ah, yes, Liam. There were two more, I recall, that pompous prick and his enchanting sister."

"Julian and Lucinda."

"Right you are, mate. Anyways, what was the point I was trying to get across?"

Mick shook his head, while Heinrich just laughed. Simon frowned. "Now, I don't see what so funny. All I was trying to do was-"

He crouched down so suddenly Heinrich almost tripped over him. The other two went down, looking nervously at the dark forest around them. "What is it?" Heinrich whispered.

"There's something here," Simon hissed. "Right over that mossy ledge."

"What do you think it is?" Mick asked, withdrawing his wand from his pocket.

Simon sniffed the air. "There's only one thing it can be," he growled, taking his wand out. "Snake!"

He vaulted over the ledge.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

Julian was having a bad day.

Hogwarts getting blown up like some demolitions showcasing was already bad enough. Seeing his sister cry her eyes out made it much worse. He had to admit, stumbling over Professor Crichlow's mangled torso unnerved him quite a bit.

Getting lumped with Sidney freaking Barlow had to be the moldy icing on the expired carrot cake. Julian shuddered. He absolutely _hated_ carrot cake.

Seeing Sidney get clotheslined by an angry Gryffindor suddenly made his suffering _very_ worth it.

"Vile Slytherin!" Simon Brennan roared, shaking Sidney by the collar. "How dare you encroach on our reconnaissance territory?"

Sidney was blubbering like a babe, his eyes wide and filled with primal panic. "DON'T KILL ME!"

Mick and Heinrich appeared out from behind a ledge, obviously disappointed. Julian smiled, waving over to them.

"We found it!" he cried, pointing at the enraged Gryffindor. "Might want to put that one on a leash."

Mick rolled his eyes. "Nice to see you two, Jules."

"Don't call me that."

Simon got up, dusting himself off. Sidney was on the ground, virtually inert. The big Gryffindor nodded slowly, proud at his work. He seemed to notice Julian and the three other frightened Slytherins for the first time.

"Let this be a lesson," he announced triumphantly. "The lion does not welcome the serpent."

"And we do not welcome either."

Before anyone could find the source of the mysterious new voice, a heavy darkness settled over the group, and everything went horribly black.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

"Hey, Bas, return to Earth. We've got a job to do."

Basil opened his eyes.

Terrence was looking down at him, an amused expression on his face. Basil opened his mouth, too shocked for words. _This is a dream. _But there was Terrence, his straw-colored hair hanging over his freckled face, a cheeky smile playing on his lips. The Hufflepuff reached out, fingers trembling as he beckoned to his best friend.

He was grabbed unceremoniously to his feet.

Sampson Grove patted him on the head. "You're too big to be lying around. Put those muscles to use and help us recon this place."

Basil slumped. _It's not Terrence_. It was a daydream after all.

He joined the other Hufflepuffs as they scoured the forest, silent and hard-working as ever. Basil slowly accompanied them, his inner Hufflepuff coming out and replacing his grief. He knew Liam's words were true, that Terrence's death wasn't his fault, but Liam wasn't there when it happened.

Of course, he was there, at the burning stadium, with hundreds of other students and witches and wizards that came to help. But, he wasn't there, under the faculty tower, when the structure groaned and fell, and Terrence disappeared under wood, fire, and smoke. He wasn't there when Terrence's frightened eyes locked onto Basil's. Then, he was gone.

Not even the quiet diligence that Hufflepuffs were known for could comfort Basil as the memories resurfaced. He fought back tears as he kicked some fallen leaves around. _Recon duty sucks._

There was a sound to his right. Basil straightened, frowning as the sound grew louder. He called for the others to come to him. "What is it?" Sampson asked, peering through the forest. Basil motioned for the others to get down.

A troop of centaurs trotted onto the path, a large black bag containing _something_ hefted over four of their backs. The bag was squirming, like there were orbs inside of it being shot around against the interior. Whatever was inside of it wanted to get out.

"What in the world?" Sampson whispered.

Voices were issuing out of the bag, and it was then that Basil realized _humans_ were inside of it. He stepped back, as did his fellow Hufflepuffs. "We have to go back," he said, eyes wide. "We have to warn the others-!"

There was a thud, a girl screamed, and Basil's world went dark.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

"_Sciurus vulgaris_," Xavier said, his eyes drawn to a furry animal resting in the branches of a tree. "The common red squirrel. I'm not surprised to find them here. Their numbers have decreased dramatically over the years, so it's reasonable that they would see this place as a safe haven." He turned around. "Don't you think so, Vena?"

Vena nodded, distracted. "Oh, yes. Red squirrel. Very nice, Xavier."

The boy tilted his head. "It was actually an attempt to cheer you up by pointing out an interesting observation."

Vena smiled, or at least tried to. "Thank you, Xavier. That means a lot."

Xavier sighed. "Guys, let's rest a moment. Five minutes, then we head out."

The other Ravenclaws nodded and gathered around them. Xavier motioned for them to sit down. Vena complied, frowning. "Xavier, I don't see how this relates to our objective-"

"You're troubled, Vena. You're not yourself. Earlier, you would've pointed out the introduction of the eastern grey squirrel that has driven out our friend _Sciurus vulgaris_ from their territories. You did no such thing."

Vena bowed her head. "I'm sorry, Xavier. I really am. I just have a lot of things on my mind."

"You can tell us, Vena sweetheart," a Seventh Year named Sheryl said, rubbing Vena's shoulder consolingly. "If you want to, of course. We're not going to coerce you into doing anything."

Vena shook her head. "I know. It's just that…it's just that everything has changed. Hogwarts is gone, and our outlook is bleak. Our chance of survival is little to none. Trust me, I've done the calculations."

Xavier nodded gravely. "We've all come to the same conclusion, Vena. Even Professor Holmes thinks the same. But there's still hope."

Vena's eyes were wet with unshed tears. "Everyone says that, Xavier. Everyone said that before the attack and look what happened. Does hope have an equation, Xavier? If it does, I don't think I can solve it."

Xavier laughed at the math joke, as did the others. Vena smiled, but it was very weak. "There are some things beyond physics and configurations, Vena. Have a chat with Firenze once in a while. No Ravenclaw can call himself or herself a Ravenclaw if they haven't had a debate with the Divination instructor."

"I am still surprised he stays with you," a deep voice said from behind Vena. "We have accepted him, but now…now, he has gone too far."

The students whirled around, wands at the ready.

A big, barrel-chested centaur appraised them with a haughty glare, his brawny arms resting calmly at his sides. He sneered at the glowing wand tips. "Stunning spells? You insult me." Seven centaurs charged out of the bushes, arrows pointed directly at the Ravenclaws. They circled around them, blocking any routes of escape. Xavier pulled Vena and Sheryl close, while the other boys formed a ring around them. The large centaur smiled.

"Protecting the females," he remarked, nodding. "An admirable trait. However, your defense is untenable."

"Would you care to find out, centaur?" Xavier challenged, glaring at him.

The horse-man laughed. "I thought you were Ravenclaws were smart. Don't fret, children. I did not come to kill you. If I did, I would've done so already."

Xavier rolled his eyes. "Spare us the megalomaniac banter. What's your point?"

The centaur's eyes hardened. "Smart, indeed. Anyways, we want you to bring your people a message."

Xavier's delicate gold eyebrow arched. "What does it entail?"

"If you leave this part of the Forest, and head due west, we will return your comrades and let you go. If not, then they shall stay with us."

"Xavier," Sheryl whispered. "West brings us back to Hogwarts."

"I know," Xavier said, his eyes still locked onto the centaur. "Hold on, I'm thinking."

There was a moment as Xavier processed the news. "Fine," he said, finally. "We'll deliver the message. However, might I ask why you want us out of this particular neck of the woods?"

"This place is holy to us. No outsiders are allowed. That is all I will say. Now," he said, backing away. "Go, before we reconsider killing you."

The beasts melded back into the shadows. Soon, no trace of them ever being there could be found.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

Liam frowned as he stared up at the sky. The sun was climbing up the horizon. It was around noon, and the recon teams were still gone. _How long does it take to look around the woods?_ There was a commotion at the forest edge. The Ravenclaw team was stumbling out of the underbrush, looking shaken. Liam raced over to them, Augustus right beside him. He held Vena as she approached him. "What's wrong?" he asked her. "Where are the others?" She didn't answer.

Xavier was whispering into Nigel's ear. The old groundskeeper's face grew paler and paler. He nodded, gently pushing Xavier aside. He grunted, climbing onto the boulder that the student's had already named, "Nigel's Rock". He waved the others to silence.

"The other teams have been delayed," he announced reassuringly. "They have sent the Ravenclaws back to tell us that they're okay."

There was a collective sigh. Everyone began to relax, resuming previous conversations. Liam looked at Vena. Her eyes were wide, and she was as still as a statue. He touched her arm. "Are you okay, Vena?" he asked. She jumped, surprised.

"Oh, oh yes, I'm fine," she stammered. "It's just…"

Nigel approached them, his face grave. Xavier opened his mouth to speak, but Nigel waved him off. The other professors were gathered around, forming a shell around the students and the groundskeeper. "I know I didn't tell the truth," Nigel sighed. "Morale's bad enough as it is. We can't have our children fretting over the lives of fellow students at this point."

"You want us to go get them," Xavier said, nodding.

"Some of you. I don't want it to be too suspicious. Xavier, you're going to lead them."

Liam cleared his throat. He still wasn't impressed with the idea. "Hold on. What's going on? What happened to the others?"

"Centaurs kidnapped them," Sheryl answered. "They said that this part of the forest was holy ground. They would give them back if we headed west."

Liam shook his head. "But that leads us back to-"

"Hogwarts," Xavier finished. "I know. That's why we have to strike a deal with them. Nigel can't go; he needs to stay with the students. We need a figure of authority, a professor, other than Nigel."

"I will go," said a clear voice.

Firenze trotted towards them, his face grim but set. "I have not interacted with my people since returning to Hogwarts, but I will act as mediator nonetheless."

"It's settled," Nigel concluded, licking his lips nervously. "Firenze will go with you. I assume you know this area of the Forbidden Forest?"

Firenze nodded sagely. "It is an ancient place, sacred to our race. Only centaurs are allowed to set foot in it, and even then it is exclusive. The Warrior-Priests are the sole denizens here. They regard it as the birthplace of their culture."

Liam fought the urge to roll his eyes. _Enough with the history lesson. My friends are in danger._ "We should get going. Now."

Nigel nodded. "Xavier, lead Firenze, Augustus, and Keith to the place where you were surrounded. Godspeed."

At first, Liam thought he had heard incorrectly. He stared at Nigel, frowning. He stared back sympathetically. The others made to leave.

"Hold on," exclaimed Liam. "I should be going too-!"

"You're emotionally compromised, Liam," Augustus explained matter-of-factly. "They're your friends, and we can't afford you doing something stupid out of anger and getting them killed."

Liam balled his fists.

Augustus half-smiled.

Nigel sensed the hostility and waved the rescue party away. They dived back into the woods, Xavier at the lead and Firenze flanking them. Nigel looked to Liam. "Augustus was right, in his own mean kind of way. You could do something that would risk everything."

Liam didn't answer back. He stuck his hands in his pockets and walked back to the Slytherin group.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

"This way," Xavier said, pointing at a vague path through some cherry bushes. "We walked through here before reaching the clearing."

He was impressed at Nigel. He didn't expect the old groundskeeper to think so astutely, and so quick on his feet, but it only deepened his respect for him. He snuck a glance over his shoulder at the quickly formed diplomatic party.

Keith McCoy was a good pick. Silent and diligent, like many Hufflepuffs, he only acted when necessary and did his jobs proficiently. He was skilled in dueling, and if Xavier remembered correctly, he had outscored even the Ministry's volunteer DADA interns by a considerable margin. _Born to be an Auror_, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had lauded in their annual inspection.

Firenze was perfect for the mission. Being a centaur himself, he knew the ways of the forest, and was knowledgeable in about everything to do with his race. He would know what to do and what not to do in front of the Warrior-Priests, whose pride seemed to belie their piousness.

However, out of the three, he questioned Nigel's choice over Liam and Augustus Fudge. Liam wasn't stupid. Slytherins rarely ever were. He would never do anything to endanger his friends. He was a little too emotional for his House, him _and_ his girlfriend, but he wasn't an idiot. Xavier would've picked Liam in a heartbeat.

Augustus was a cold, calculating boy. An individual with the brains of a Ravenclaw, the cunning of a Slytherin, the physical aptitude of a peak Gryffindor, and the diligence of a Hufflepuff. A dangerous combination in a person with the heart of freezing ice. Xavier wasn't worried about Liam doing something stupid to save his friends. He was more worried about Augustus doing something reasonable and level that would leave one or two of the hostages in the thrall of the centaurs. Xavier looked away before the other boy could catch his gaze.

The clearing opened up before them, where the same brawny centaur from before awaited patiently. His bushy eyebrows rose when Firenze came into view. "Firenze," he said in greeting. "I did not expect your presence."

"Nor did I," the Divination professor conceded. "Recent events have forced my hooves to walk upon this sacred ground."

"The humans shouldn't even be here in the first place," the older one said, clearly irritated. His face softened. "I heard of the school's destruction. I'm sorry for your loss."

Xavier didn't expect such empathy from the Warrior-Priest. The apology seemed wasted, however, as a group of centaurs came into view, dragging the hostages into the glen. Xavier could feel Keith bristle as the Hufflepuffs were pushed forward. Basil was nursing a wound on the back of his head, his face stretched tight with pain. Simon Brennan was hollering obscenities, an ugly gash on his forehead. Xavier's lip curled.

"You've abused our fellows," the Ravenclaw Prefect snapped. "I thought no harm would come to them."

"The injuries were dealt before the obtainment, not during," the lead centaur huffed. Xavier could see the lie in his eyes. "It was just two of them. They are flesh wounds, nothing more."

Keith spat on the ground. The centaurs stirred uneasily, looking to their leader. The centaur narrowed his eyes at the Hufflepuff captain, but otherwise remained unruffled. He stared back at Xavier pointedly.

"My name is Sefarus," the leader said. "Sefarus Of-the-Elm. By giving these students back to you, your group shall travel back west and out of the holy ground. Do we have your word?"

Augustus stepped forward. "West brings us back to our school, Sefarus Of-the-Elm. The destroyers of Hogwarts vie for our demise, so we must continue east." His speech was polite and precise, just as centaurs liked it.

Sefarus glared at him, breathing heavily. "Denied. East will bring you deeper into our territory. We have tolerated your presence long enough. It is blasphemy!"

"What if we were to broker a deal," Augustus offered, his face as blank as a slate. "Centaur law states that the willful giving of a thrall to another places the receiver into life-debt. An agreement that cannot be broken."

_Damn you to hell, Augustus Fudge_. Xavier, Firenze, and Keith turned to the Slytherin, mouths open. Even Sefarus looked shocked. Who knew the Slytherin researched centaur law? The Warrior-Priest mulled it over in his head. "Human slaves do make good torch-bearers," he mused. "We haven't had a mage assisted ritual in ages."

"The deal is off," Xavier said hurriedly. "We revoke it!"

Sefarus smiled. "Deals cannot be broken unless-"

"We revoke it in the name of the Mother Tree!" Xavier cried.

The smile vanished. Xavier thanked God he had taken that extra course during the spring. Sefarus glared and conversed with the other centaurs. Sefarus turned back to the once more. "We are at an impasse, young mage. I suggest you make your next decision _very_ wisely."

The sound of several bowstrings being tightened filled the clearing. Xavier's eyes darted back and forth. _Damn. We're surrounded_. He could hear Keith muttering defensive wards around them, and Firenze stepping back to cover their flank. Augustus stepped up to Xavier and leaned into his side.

"What next, leader?" he whispered.

Xavier took a deep breath and tightened his grip on his wand.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

Liam felt completely and utterly useless.

He felt strongly wronged that Nigel had picked Augustus over him. The groundskeeper didn't even like the slimy git. Being "emotionally compromised" was just Augustus' excuse for one-upping Liam. His fists shook in anger as he remembered Augustus smiling deviously back at him a few moments ago. He should've gotten rid of that boy years ago.

The moment the thought struck him he felt immediate disgust. _You left that life, Liam. Don't even go there again. You have too much to lose this time._ He gave a sidelong glance at Lucinda, who was chatting with several of her surviving friends. Liam could tell she was trying hard to keep Julian and the others' disappearance out of her head. He could even see her bottom lip trembling ever so slightly. There were many things he disliked, but one of the things he absolutely _hated_ was seeing Lucinda cry.

And he'd be damned if he didn't do anything to prevent her tears from falling.

When the probing eyes from Nigel and the professors finally slid off of him, he slunk around the Slytherin group and into the forest, the shadows hiding his body. The sound of his escape was drowned out by the conversations of the students in the clearing. He took out his wand, ready for anything from acromantulas to angry centaurs.

Liam was going to rescue his friends, and nothing would get in his way.

**AN: Please review! Reviews are what keep me going!**


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